


No More Nightmares

by ashleyerwinner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Job, Dean has a nightmare, DeanCas - Freeform, Hand Job, Kisses, M/M, Porn With Plot, and porny stuff, goes to see Cas, nightmares about hell, things are dark, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyerwinner/pseuds/ashleyerwinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You dreamt of the rack?”</p><p>“I dreamt of the torturing, Cas.” He whispered harshly. He noticed his hands shaking, holding them on his knees and watching them. Cas didn’t say anything. Dean looked back up at him. Castiel’s eyes held a mix of pity and hurt.</p><p>“Dean—“ He said, sighing. Dean interrupted.</p><p>“I had a dream I was torturing you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know I don't know??? Enjoy!

Dean’s nightmares always focused in on his time in hell. The smell of his own skin burning, as Alastair branded him with scorching hot pokers, the horrors of seeing his organs spilling out of his stomach, the atrocities he’d suffered in his thirty years on the rack.

And then, he’d dream about getting off of the rack, Alastair finally breaking him down, saying “yes” to inflicting pain on the other people in hell. The first person he’d ever tortured, a woman who screamed her name in pleading as he cut into her, again, and again, and again. “My name is Erin!” she would scream. “I have four children; Caleb—“ Dean never let her finish. He couldn’t. He couldn’t go back to being tortured.

Alastair was watching him, his first time. He was the one who gave him the whip as he led Dean over to the woman on the rack. She was naked, and trying so desperately to regain some of her privacy, struggling against the ropes holding her arms and legs down, trying to curl in on herself. Dean looked away in shame, in pity. He couldn’t look at her face.

He chose to whip her back, instead.

In this nightmare, Dean heard Alastair’s voice screaming into his ear.

“Cut the screaming bitch open!”

Shakily, Dean raised the whip over his head, and the whip came down with a stripe of breaking flesh, a trickle of blood.

“ _Again_!” Alastair screamed.

But it wasn’t the woman anymore. She wasn’t screaming about her four children, pleading for Dean’s mercy. It was Castiel, screaming Dean’s name, a choked cry of anguish. From the stripe of Castiel’s back poured a thousand bees.

That’s when Dean woke up.

“Cas-!” He breathed, and clutched the sheets with a furious fear that wouldn’t leave him.

“Dean, what are you--? Are you okay?” Sam sat up in his own bed, across the room. Dean nodded, being vaguely aware that Sam couldn’t hear his nodding. “A nightmare?” Dean continued to nod.

“I just need some air.” He said, and flung his feet over the side of his bed, grabbing his jacket and his keys and running past Sam, slamming the hotel room door behind him.

He slipped his jacket on as he made his way to his car, his feet slapping the pavement. He realized halfway to the car he’d forgotten shoes in his hasty retreat.

When he finally got behind the wheel of his precious car, he could breathe. But he couldn’t shake the image of Castiel out of his mind. He patted his pockets, finding his keys and his phone. He brought his phone to his lips, contemplating calling the recently angel-fied Castiel. Instead, he tossed the thing onto the passenger’s seat, and turned the keys in the ignition.

He drove for miles upon miles, the empty roads pushing the memories of his nightmare farther from his mind. It was a hypnotic view, the pavement, and the trees flying past him. He was in a thought-free place, when his phone buzzed beside him.

Without taking his eyes off of the road, he reached for his phone. He glanced at the screen.

 **New text from C-assbutt**.

So, Sam had called him. Typical. He opened the text.

**Are you alright?**

_Fine_ , he replied. Another buzz sounded off immediately.

 **Don’t lie to me. I heard you.** Dean bit his lip, thinking.

 _Where are you?_ Another immediate buzz.

 **D’egg Diner in Norfolk, Virginia.** Dean looked up at the passing signs on the road.

 _Can you wait an hour?_ Dean sighed. Sometimes he really did miss Cas’ wings.

 **Of course.** So, Dean drove on.

 

Dean knew that Cas’ time as an angel was merely seconds compared to hours of human time, but that didn’t stop Dean from getting to D’egg Diner in nearly half the time he asked Cas to wait. Cas’ back was facing the door, his dark tan trench coat a clear indicator of the angel’s presence. Dean passed the host wordlessly, sitting across from the man.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said, and Dean let out a labored breath and searched the sparkling blue eyes of the man in front of him. Cas’ eyes searched his back.

“I had a nightmare.” Dean said after a minute, and Cas nodded.

“I thought perhaps a hunt gone wrong.” He admitted. “I was worried for your safety.” Cas straightened his back, and Dean realized that as much as he missed Cas’ wings, he would never miss them as much as the angel did.

“Did you ever have nightmares of hell? You know, when you actually slept?” Dean asked softly. Cas drummed his fingertips on the top of the table. He didn’t answer for a long time.

“I kept dreaming I didn’t save you from it.” He said carefully, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “You still dream of hell?”

“Every nightmare is a new version of hell.” Dean sighed, sitting back. He rubbed his eyes. “30 years on the rack, Sam dying, you dying, purgatory, the list goes on and on. It never ends.”

“You dreamt of the rack?”

“I dreamt of the torturing, Cas.” He whispered harshly. He noticed his hands shaking, holding them on his knees and watching them. Cas didn’t say anything. Dean looked back up at him. Castiel’s eyes held a mix of pity and hurt.

“Dean—“ He said, sighing. Dean interrupted.

“I had a dream I was torturing you.” He said, his eyes wide. Cas sat back, a small “o” shape of his mouth.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere we can talk more privately.” Cas said. Dean nodded, motioning to his bare feet.

“Somewhere warm, preferably.” He added, and they left, Cas’ warm coffee on the table.

“Follow me to my hotel?” He said, motioning to his car. Dean nodded, getting behind the impala’s steering wheel.

Ten short minutes later, Dean followed Cas into a shabby looking hotel room. The bed was made, the room was spotless, and Dean was confused.

“I thought you didn’t need any sleep? Why are you getting hotel rooms?” Cas shrugged.

“I’d like to rest. The television is quite useful.” He sat down on the bed, and motioned for Dean to get comfortable. “Put the blanket over your feet. They must be freezing.” Dean flushed as he sat next to Cas in the bed, doing as he said, and flinging the scratchy hotel sheets on his bare feet. The warmth was appreciated.

“It’s good to see you, Cas.” He said after a minute, and Cas tilted his head at him.

“It’s nice to see you too, Dean.”

“No, Cas. I mean, it’s good to see you after…” he trailed off. Cas nodded.

“Of course, Dean. I’m always available for you.” Dean huffed a little laugh. Cas was quiet for a moment before he asked, “does it happen often, the nightmares of torture?”

“Cas, why do you think I only get four hours of sleep a night?” He laughed, a harsh, dark noise. Cas’ eyes darkened with pain.

“I could ease that for you, Dean. A simple touch of your forehead and you’d sleep well over twelve hours.”

“I’m so fucked up, Cas.” He choked out, his eyes watering. He was not breaking down. Dean Winchester does not break down.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice reached out to him. He looked up at the man. Cas was looking at him with furious seriousness. “You are not fucked up. You are not poison. You are a beautiful, intelligent, caring individual. I gave everything up for you, and I’ve never regretted it. Not for a second. For someone who hasn’t done a damn good thing in his life except rescuing you from hell, you must believe me.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, replaying the words through his head over and over again. The only good thing?

“You always thought you were doing the right thing. What makes you think you _did_ do the right thing by rescuing me?”

Cas’ eyes flickered with pain and anger. Before he could even process what was happening, Cas’ lips were planted firmly on his.

“You are precious, Dean Winchester.” He whispered against Dean’s lips. Dean breathed in his words. Cas palmed his face and kissed him hard again. “You are _worthy_ of being saved.” He continued, pressing hard kisses on Dean’s lips. Dean found himself pressing back, the feeling in his chest tightening and loosening, warming him from the inside out. Cas pulled away, the pads of his thumbs stroking his face lightly.

“Cas,” Dean breathed.

“Do you believe me?” He replied. Dean looked up at him, eyes darting to meet Cas’ earnest gaze.

“Yes.” He said, and Cas pressed against him, lips soft and warm and tender against Dean’s. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, fingertips digging into the fabric of his trenchcoat.

It was all too much and not enough at the same time. Dean pulled at the collar of the trenchcoat, pulling it off. Cas shrugged it off, swinging his leg over Dean’s waist so he was straddling him. Dean’s eyes travelled up Cas’ body, the tight-fitting pants, the thin white button-down shirt with the first couple buttons undone, as he’d told him to do once. Cas’ arms looked strong against the thin fabric, and Dean felt his face heat up thinking of what all of that force could do to him. He looked up at Cas’ face, the pupils of his eyes blown dark from arousal. He reached up and grabbed a fistful of Cas’ shirt and pulled him down, rolling his hips up to meet Cas’.

The angel moaned against his lips, thrusting his hips down in a circular twist, little moans pouring out of his mouth as he did. Dean focused on kissing now, flicking his tongue against the other man’s bottom lip, nipping and sucking as Cas found a rhythm in his thrusting.

“Cas, you gotta,” Dean said, breathing hard, “you gotta get rid of all these clothes.”

“Of course,” the angel replied, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Dean propped himself up on his elbows and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Cas was working on his pants, shirtless now, and Dean fell back onto the bed, watching him with his mouth parted.

Cas was _hot._ Maybe not like, chick hot, but hot nonetheless. His chest and abs were toned, his hipbones dipping in the most sensual way. Cas kicked off his pants and met Dean’s eyes before reaching for his boxers. Dean smiled stupidly and tried to pry his eyes away from the obvious erection Cas was sporting under the offending piece of cloth. Cas pulled them down, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he did. He stood still as Dean’s eyes raked over his naked form, smiling embarrassedly. Dean arched his back and hooked his thumbs under his pants and underwear and pulled them down to his knees.

Cas nearly jumped on top of him, laying his body on top of Dean’s. Dean’s hands were everywhere on the angel’s body, eliciting small moans and gasps and huffs of air that were like music to his ears. In turn, Cas raked his fingertips down Dean’s chest, paying careful attention to the hardening pink flesh on his chest as he brushed his fingers over them.

Dean bucked up when Cas brought his lips to his chest, swirling his tongue around the hard flesh. He was vaguely aware of his chanting of Cas’ name, and reached down between Cas’ legs to touch Cas, to make him _feel_ as much as he was.

Dean kissed the top of Cas’ shoulders as he stroked his thumb up the length of Cas’ cock. Cas shuddered on top of him.

“Dean.” He nearly whined. Dean gripped the hard flesh in his hand, and gave it a slight squeeze. Cas thrust into his fist. Dean swirled the pre-come off the tip of Cas’ cock and slicked it down the underside of it, stroking it quicker now. Cas pressed his lips hard on Dean’s, moaning Dean’s name like a prayer, again, and again. Dean twisted his wrist and picked up speed, Cas’ moans fueling him to do more, more. Cas’ breathing was getting labored, and he was tensing his entire body.

“Cas, I got you, relax. Come for me.” He whispered against Cas’ mouth. Cas cried out Dean’s name, and pressed his lips hard on Dean’s as he came. He slumped against Dean’s side, kissing him lazily, a smile on his face. Dean kissed him back, the wetness on his stomach and hands chilling him. Cas grabbed a tissue from the table on the side of the bed and cleaned him off, an affectionate look on his face. He tossed the tissue into the bin and looked Dean up and down, a lustful expression on his face.

He leaned down slowly and kissed Dean’s stomach, and another on his hip. Dean watched as Cas kissed a trail of kisses across his body, and as Cas met his gaze. He looked predatory. He kneeled between Dean’s legs and brought his mouth to the tip of Dean’s still-hard cock.

“Cas,” he breathed, and felt Cas slowly swirl his tongue around the tip of his cock. He groaned, his back arching as Cas took more of his cock in his mouth, his tongue never pausing as he slowly sucked Dean off. It was torturously slow, and Dean watched in a blurry haze as Cas hollowed his cheeks, his mouth like a warm, wet vacuum. He grabbed a fistful of Cas’ hair gently, needing something to hold on to. He bobbed his head up and down, his tongue swirling almost sinfully as he did.

It wasn’t fair, Dean thought as his toes curl, for Cas to have this much experience and skill, to make Dean clutch at the sheets in pleasure, for Cas to be able to spread Dean’s legs out almost wantonly, stroking his inner thighs as he went to town on Dean’s cock.

He felt Cas’ finger gently trail over the sensitive skin of his balls, and lower, and he almost screamed out in pleasure as Cas’ finger ghosted over his hole. It was all too much, the heat of Cas’ mouth combined with those sinful fingers.

“Cas, I’m gonna—“ he tried to warn him, and thrust up as he came, flashing white spots behind his eyelids.

He felt Cas lay against him again, and opened his eyes sleepily, gazing into the blue eyes affectionately looking down at him. He smiled at Cas, who leaned down to plant little kisses on Dean’s lips.

“Sleep, Dean.” He whispered, and Dean closed his eyes, pressed against Cas, skin against skin.

“Mmhm, Cas.” He whispered back, and felt Cas’ lips resting on his forehead as he drifted into a blank, white, dreamless sleep.


End file.
